we all need somebody to lean on
by heartsvilleMonarch
Summary: "Telling Bruce Banner that he couldn't go home was one of the hardest things Tony had ever done." Bruce and Tony discovering each other after the events of the movie. This was first published on Ao3. Bruce/Tony, mild Bruce/Betty, vague Shield OT3. Rated for domestic abuse and violence.
1. Chapter 1

Telling Bruce Banner that he couldn't go home was one of the hardest things Tony had ever done.

Sure, the doctor had agreed to stay the night- for convenience, though some part of Tony hoped it was simply because Bruce wanted to. Until he'd asked where "home" was. And Bruce's face had broken into a genuine, unexpected, gorgeous smile and said one word. "Betty." Not New York, or California, or New Mexico, he'd explained quickly, because quite frankly he had no idea if she'd stayed in their last home or moved elsewhere. Or if she even wanted to see him again.

"But I think I'm a free man now, " Bruce had quietly confided in Tony's lab, "so I can try and find her again. And my best friend, he's still out there somewhere. I think- I hope," and his face said so much more, it seemed to express actual disbelief that he had any right to these things- "I hope I can go home now. I'd really like to stop running."

Tony couldn't speak. The fact that this beautiful, damaged man had come into his life and given him his trust had thrown him completely. And he resolved to help Bruce in any way he could. But the fact of the matter remained- the next morning as everyone slowly awoke and Bruce shuffled downstairs, bag in hand, Tony had to tell him that he couldn't go home.

"I'm under warrant again." It wasn't a question. Tony didn't answer with anything more than a nod and hated himself for it.

Bruce sighed, as if he thought the news was inevitable. And maybe he did. That made Tony more angry than anything, because the man had known this was coming, and he accepted it.

"I'll go," Bruce said quietly, breaking the sudden silence. "I'm sorry, I'm putting you in danger. I need to go right away."

"No," replied Tony, the force behind it surprising them both. "You're not going anywhere. And don't you dare apologise again, not for this. This isn't your fault." A long-suffering expression crossed Bruce's face.

"You can't put yourself on the firing line like this. I won't have you targeted by the US miitary, by General Ross, because of me. And you will be targeted, don't roll your eyes. He can't use Betty against me, so he'll find anyone I'm close to in order to bring me in. It's not worth it. I'll disappear again. I'm good at that," he added ruefully, and that was the last straw.

_I got low. I didn't see a way out. So I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spat it out._

"Don't go. Please," he asked, watching Bruce carefully incase he was going to run. Like a skittish animal, being hunted. "Hell, this is probably a neutral zone, right? Like Switzerland? The army can't get to you here, I guarantee. Besides, I have some friends in the military who can help. Well, one friend. But he counts as a lot, cause he's very important. And-" he added quickly, seeing Bruce about to interrupt- "it is not an imposition, or whatever you were about to argue. I want you to stay. You try to run and they'll catch you before you even reach the airport."

"I'm good at running," Bruce tried to say, but Tony waved it off with an impatient gesture.

"Let me help you. I wasn't kidding back on Fury's big flying ship, I want you here. And I an hep get the warrant off you, so you can go back to your Betty... or at least, you can contact her from here in the meantime."

Bruce shook his head. "I don't think contacting her will be that easy."

"Oh please, Jarvis can get the telephone number of anyone you-"

"- no, not that-"

"- you can use the phone, honestly-"

"_Tony_," Bruce implored, and Tony stopped. "She's Betty_ Ross_."

A pause.

"Yeah, so?"

"Ross," Bruce emphasised again. "As in,_ General_ Ross. Weren't you listening?"

"Shit. He can't use her against you-"

"Because she's his daughter, yes," Bruce finished the sentence for him.

"Oh, jesus. No wonder he hates you."

Bruce laughed again, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "He's not exatly who I'd pick for an in-law."

Wait. "She's your wife?"

"No."_ And didn't that sound just a little bit mournful?_ "I meant that speculatively. Though I shouldn't be speculative. We were almost engaged before I.. before the lab accident."

_Ah._ "Almost?"

He shrugged. "Well, I'd bought the ring. Just didn't ask in time. She's probably moved on."

"Nah. Why would she?" Tony realised his mistake quickly and immediately started to talk again incase Bruce started listing all the things he hated about himself. "I mean, don't give up hope, big guy. We'll sort things out."

"Right. Sure." He didn't sound convinced. And Tony didn't know how to convince him.

"Do you require assistance, Dr Banner?"

"Um." Bruce paused, trying to think. "You know when you're in someone else's house at night, and you can't find the lightswitch, but you don't want to wake anyone up with the light either?" He was aware he was rambling, (to an AI, of all things,) and as he finished this the room around him started to glow dimly until he stood in an easy, comfortable light. "Oh. Thanks."

"You are welcome, Dr Banner. And for future reference, there are little to no lightswitches in this tower." The AI seemed amost offended that Bruce could even contemplate the idea.

"Oh, of course. Should've known." There was an uncomfortable pause as Bruce tried to nudge his duffel bag behind him and wondered what to do from here. Jarvis broke the silence.

"Dr Banner, I regret to inform you that I have been ordered to alert Mr Stark if you seemed intent on leaving after nightfall."

He rolled his eyes. He had to. "Of course he did. It's not like I can ever escape being on constant watch."

"I believe Mr Stark's intention is to keep you safe. I estimate that you could be captured by US military forces in under half an hour if you tried to leave the tower tonight."

A bitter smile played accross Bruce's lips. "Clearly you've never seen anyone try to capture me."

"I have indeed seen such attempts, Dr Banner. And in which way would such an outcome be preferable to you?"

"You know, it's_ really_ obvious who programmed you."

"Indeed. Good night, Dr Banner."

Pepper first saw Dr Banner as his giant green alter-ego on the jet's TV screen, and hadn't paid him that much attention, save for the part where he caught Tony in mid-air after his fall from space. Now that, she was grateful to the Hulk for, she really was. But she wasn't sure what to expect from the alter-ego's... alter-ego. Whatever she was expecting, Bruce wasn't it. The shy, unassuming, fluffy-haired scientist? Hadn't seen that one coming. Or maybe she should have read his file.

In all fairness, she'd been pretty busy lately.

"So you're the famous Dr Banner?" Pepper had asked, with her nicest, friendliest smile. He'd nodded. A surprisingly good handshake, she noticed. And chocolate eyes you could drown in. Very endearing. She could see why Tony liked him.

"We're harbouring a fugitive," Tony explained cheerfully as he strolled into the kitchen where Bruce and Pepper stood.

She laughed uneasily. "I'm sure that's not true. Be nice, Tony."

"No, really," they both chorused.

"The army wants him dead."

"Not that easy. The army wants to use me to kill other people."

"Yeah, but in the long run, they don't want you _alive_, do they?"

"It's... um..."

"Complicated," they both finished, chuckling like schoolboys. Pepper sighed, watching them both, and hopped neatly onto a stool by the breakfast bar.

"Start from the beginning, then."

Bruce looked at them both in turn. Took a sip of tea. Ran a hand through his hair. Then began his story.

_I got low._

Tony couldn't help but wonder how much that didn't say.

_I put a bullet in my mouth and the other guy spat it out._

"So, tell me about India," Tony chanced one day while they were working.

"It holds 17% of the world's population, the national bird is a peacock, Hindi is the official language but there are a lot of lesser-spoken ones," Bruce managed to rattle off before Tony stopped him with an impatient wave of his hand. Bruce just smiled, teasing.

"You _know_ what I mean."

Bruce conceded. "Hot. Frantic. Lonely," he added, almost as an afterthought. "But I was doing good work."

"Nothing else?"

He hummed absent-mindedly. "Nothing very interesting. I was just trying to lie low, most of the time."There was a pause as Tony tried to figure out what to say next. Bruce watched him, surreptitiously, waiting for the inevitable question. "It wasn't completely lonely, actually. I did know a dog."

"What was he called?"

"I just called him dog."

"Of course. Because you thought you didn't have the right to name it."

"He wasn't _my_ dog."

"Right." They paused again. Eventually, Bruce, tired of waiting, looked away from his work and stopped Tony's monitor with a wave of his hand, then looked him in the eyes.

"In the vain hope that you're not going to ask what I think you're going to ask, can I inquire as to what's on your mind?"

"I..." he searched and failed. The silver words weren't coming as they usually did. Maybe for this, there were none. _To hell with it._ "You tried to kill yourself."

A look of disappointment. "Yes."

"When?"

Bruce waved Tony's screen back and moved away to his own worktop once more. "I can't remember exactly. It was some time last winter."

Tony's thoughts swam._ Bruce, alone in the snow. Bruce, desperate for a way out. Bruce, shaking, a gun in his hand. The barrel on his lip._ "Was that the only time?"

"No."

"How many other times, Bruce?"

For a second, Tony worried that Bruce might just get up and leave, that he'd pushed it too far. The silence rang out. Then Bruce spoke once more, his tone making it clear that the conversation was over.

"Just once more. A long time ago."

Tony had never been very good at leaving things alone. Besides, he was too clever. Noticed too much. _A long time ago._

"After the Hulk?" He ventured, hoping to God he was right. Bruce shook his head, his voice cold and closed.

"Before. Long before."

Tony had never been good at leaving things alone. But the look in Bruce's eyes made him think that perhaps he should try, this time.


	2. Chapter 2

"I've gotten _used_ to you," Tony complained one morning when he came downstairs expecting to see Bruce in the kitchen, and instead hadn't found him until lunch.

"I... sorry?"

"No," Tony waved a hand, "don't apologise. I like having another genius around. I just didn't think I'd ever get used to seeing anyone that wasn't Pepper. Maybe it's a sign? I should keep you here forever."

"It might yet come to that," Bruce sighed. Despite their best combined efforts, Ross was still determined to capture him if he set one foot outside the tower. "Reluctant as I am to ask anything of them, I can't help thinking that SHIELD might-"

"- they built a cage to trap you in, remember-"

"-but they were keeping people off my back before-"

"-yeah, so they say-"

"-Natasha said so, and I trust her-"

"- you shouldn't-"

"-she's part of the team-"

"-she's an agent!"

"Tony..."

"I'm not actually trying to keep you here, honestly."_ I might be._ "I know you want to go home. Any- any word from Betty yet?"

His face fell and Tony could have kicked himself. "I can't contact her in any way, Ross made sure of that."

"But you're working on it?"

"Of course." But his hands twisted together, a habit that showed he was nervous. Tony had learnt that sign pretty early on.

He'd learnt a lot, actually. More than he'd expected to, because he'd started specifically listening for those tiny tidbits that Bruce sometimes dropped into their conversations, when he was feeling especially safe and secure. Small facts, like his hometown, (Roswell,) where he went to college, (Caltech,) his favourite TV show, (Firefly.) Infuriatingly, he'd learnt nothing more about the elusive Betty Ross. Bruce had become strangely reluctant to talk about her. Tony had seen a few photos from her file, and one that Bruce had brought up on his monitor one time, a group picture of a the two of them and a few friends at a campfire. (Dorm building tradition, apparently.) It showed a clearly camera shy, adorably curly-haired Bruce with a mug of something, curled up next to a girl huddled in a man's jumper. His, probably. A bittersweet memory.

Tony yearned for the little details that Bruce was willing to part with. He just didn't know why.

It had been two weeks now, and Bruce still didn't feel entirely comfortable around Pepper Potts. Part of him thought it was something to do with the fact that she was always completely immaculate- never a hair out of place, always perfectly manicured, always calm and efficient despite whatever mess was thrown at her. And next to her, Bruce felt like a fool. A mumbling, badly dressed, fidgeting fool. If he was attracted to her he'd describe it as some sort of beauty and the beast parallel, but he wasn't. His life was just too erratic, too out of control, and Pepper was the very essence of control. A halcyon girl, keeping everything smooth.

Tony, on the other hand, was a tornado. Admittedly, the fun kind that spirits you away to Oz, (or an R&D candyland,) but a tornado nonetheless. And that was far more comforting, more familiar. Certainly more relatable. Of course, Pepper had got that straight away.

"You're both as bad as each other," she sighed one morning, taking in Bruce's sleepy shuffle through the doorway and the smudged equations he'd frantically scribbled onto his left hand at some point during the night. (It was impossible to find a notepad in Tony's lab. Or any form of paper.) "Did you get any sleep last night?"

He took a long sip of coffee before answering. "A little. I never really sleep that much."

"That's not good for you," Pepper reprimanded him, though a faint smile played across her lips and she was clearly trying to stop herself from laughing, as he tried to operate the kettle in his sleep-deprived state. He looked over at her, ready with a sheepish grin- and then the wave of nostalgia hit him, sweet, and longed for, and oh, so painful.

_Betty stood in the doorway, neat and tidy in the early hours of the morning. Hands on her hips. "Did you get any sleep last night?"_

_"Of course," he lied, blinking back his initial shock at her appearance in his dorm building, dodging past her to get to the kettle, running a hand through his mop of hair. "You know this isn't your building, right?"_

_"I wanted to come check that my boyfriend hadn't collapsed of exhaustion while I was away."_

_"Looking after Bruce is my job, actually." James tripped down the stairs, and straightened up with an impressively large yawn. "And you're a liar," he added as an afterthought, stealing the toast that had just popped up. "You were awake all night. You were definitely awake when I went to sleep."_

_"Traitor." His room-mate just laughed._

_"Since when do you sleep? You exist on books and herbal tea come nightfall, don't deny it. I have to force him into bed," he explained, noticing Betty again and winking. "But I bet you don't!"_

_Bruce nearly dropped his tea. "James!"_

_Half-smile, half-frown. Wholly beautiful._

_"I don't know how this building copes, you're just as bad as each-other. I brought bagels."_

_You're just as bad as each other._

"Bruce?"

He snapped his head up to see Pepper staring at him with a concerned expression. "You didn't sleep at all, did you?"

That smile. The tone. The perfect, put-together girl who was so much better than him in every way. That's why he was so uncomfortable around Pepper. She was too much like Betty. Looking at her made him think of Betty, of every inch of her. Of their house, their cat, their sweet, ephemeral life. Of their favourite diner and the few photos they had up at home. He had one photo left now, hidden under a stack of letters that he'd written and not had the courage to send since returning to New York. The previous night's guilt returned to him now, even stronger than before.

Bruce made his apologies to Betty- no, Pepper, and retreated. His false heart pounded, and the lies felt heavy on his tongue. Somewhere in his head, a low roar sounded and reverberated until he felt sick. You can't escape.

Tony was too absorbed in what he was reading to notice the click-clack of Pepper's heels as she strode across the lab. It was only when she peered over his shoulder and her long hair tickled his face that he jumped out of his skin.

"Pepper!" One hand went over his arc reactor, earning him a pair of rolled eyes, and the other waved away the files he was so engrossed in with a hasty motion.

She frowned. "What are you hiding?"

"What are you doing in my lab?" he countered.

"I'm one of the three people allowed in here, remember?" I need you to look at these." She gestured to the papers she held. "Though clearly, you're more interested in whatever you were trying to wave away."

"I wasn't trying to-"

"Jarvis, what was Mr Stark just looking at?"

"Traitor," Tony hissed, as several blue files swam back into view. Files with headings that read "New Mexico," "California," "Virginia," "Kolkata." All under the heading of "Robert (Bruce) Banner, PHD."

Pepper was silent for a few moments as she took it all in. Bruce as a child. He had the largest, darkest eyes she'd ever seen, a mop of curly brown hair, and a thin, frail body. He ought to have been endearing, but his face was too haunted. She skimmed the articles that surrounded it. "Local Woman Beaten To Death Outside Her Home." "Genius Kamikaze Child Expelled For Failed Explosive Attempt."

Then, a letter of admission to California Technical College. Some happier photos, Bruce and Betty, Bruce in a shy graduation picture, Bruce sitting with a group of friends around a dinner table, Bruce and- was that Dr Selvig? Yes, laughing and working together, sun streaming in through an open window of the lab.

And then, of course;

Culver University. Grainy cellphone pictures, reports of damage. Trees ripped from the earth. Buildings, crumbling. Stacked photos of destruction, of a green beast. Of death. Then Harlem, Kolkata, New York. Pepper looked away.

"You're very quiet," Tony said finally, breaking the silence.

"I can't..." she broke off, struggling for words. Shocked. He reached up and awkwardly patted her arm.

"I'm sorry, I know it's a lot to take in. Not a very pleasant story, is it?"

Very quietly, Pepper bent down to look him in the eyes.

"I can't believe you could be such an ass," she finished, seething. "You call this a story? This is his life!"

"I-"

"You listen to me, Tony." The files flew away with a wave of her hand. "This is private. If he wants you to know these things, he'll tell you. And he'll tell you because he trusts you. Though God knows why."

"Pepper-"

"Did he say you could go rummaging through his file?"

"Well, not exactly..."  
"Did he express any kind of consent or wish for you to know any particular details of his life?"

"Well, sometimes he'd drop hints about..." he couldn't finish. What did he really tell you? The name of his school, his favourite TV show. His head dropped in shame. "I've fucked up. Please don't tell him."

She straightened up, and smoothed back her hair. Almost imperceptibly, she was professional again, her face calm and smooth, her demeanour almost clinical. She dropped the papers on his lap and started to walk away.

"Tell him yourself. And sign these before I get back."


	3. Chapter 3

Bruce slept.

A child cowered in his room, sobbing. Outside, the sun was coming up and rays of light were reflected in the pools of blood that ran slowly down the pavement to the gutter. The same blood was in his hair, and on his hands, his knees, his threadbare t-shirt. His mother's blood. She'd had a smile that could stop Bruce's tears in their tracks but she couldn't stop her head's impact with the kerb, and he couldn't stop his father from making him watch. He could hear police sirens blaring, disrupting their sleepy little town. He'd tried to call them so many times before. He'd practiced saying "we need help, my mum needs help, please come get us," but had never had the courage to dial the number. Now all he could tell them was "you're too late." They took his father away as the blood dried in the sun and Robert wondered if he'd been forgotten. He wondered if any of the policemen knew his name.

Bruce slept.

He'd never been in this part of the school before. He wondered if the teachers even knew about it. It looked like the ghost of the shiny new room way above ground, the studio where the older girls giggled and did their hair and practised perfect pirouettes. The bar that ran across the wall was cracked, and broken in the middle. There was a thick film of dust over the mirrored walls that had been untouched for years, so he wrote his name on it, collecting the history on his finger and wiping the excess on his trousers. Robert Banner. He caught his reflection's eye somewhere in the B and wondered if anyone would even recognise his name. Then, the little boy frowned. Did he really want his name there? Don't be silly, a tiny voice reprimanded him. They're going to know it was you anyway, don't be such an idiot. They'll see you here. Even so, a little pink hand reached up and swept the name away, leaving a stretch of silver big enough to see his whole face in. He didn't like what he saw. But he liked what could be seen behind his face, so he turned around to see it properly. A mass of wires and blinking lights greeted him, like friends he'd never had. He crouched down next to the hub in the centre. He hoped he'd got the wiring right. Robert knew he was smart, that's what got him into this mess in the first place, but wiring a bomb was hard and it wasn't in any of the school textbooks, not even the ones for the big seniors. He'd checked. The lights changed colour and he lay down next to them. Robert Banner took in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He wished he'd left his name in the dust.

Bruce slept.

For the first time, his rage manifested himself and he wasn't Bruce anymore, (even though Robert had finally disappeared and he'd just startedbeing Bruce,) he was this new thing, this child that was full of anger and rage and power, who didn't understand the word and why it hated him. Did he know anything? He knew that Banner was scared, always scared, and when Banner was too scared and it got too much then it meant that it was his turn to come out and protect them both. He knew that he could stop people screaming by knocking them over and making them sleep, and that was good, but when Betty slept in that cold white room it was bad and Banner was scared again but wouldn't let him come out, would never let him come out. Then the two of them ran, ran across the sea and the sky, until Banner got tired of running and wanted to sleep as well.

Bruce slept.

He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, because what else could he do? "Guns are never the answer," some past version of him had argued, to a girl who'd been to military school and could never quite forget it. "They don't help anyone and never will." But wouldn't this help? Wouldn't this solve everything? It didn't feel heavy in his hand. It didn't even feel wrong. It was a nice, solid weight. Something real and tangible. An anchor. Only anchors are supposed to keep you grounded. Bruce wanted himself out.

He took a deep breath, and for a moment, he was a child again. A mess of gangly limbs and spectacles and bruises, closing his eyes and wishing he'd left his name in the dust. I was here.

Bruce put the gun to his lips and kissed death.

Bruce slept.

The other guy woke up.

Under the cover of blaring ACDC, Tony felt a crash from upstairs reverberate around his lab.

"Sir," Jarvis began, in his haltingly polite voice. "I regret to inform you that-"

"Hulk's out."

"Indeed, sir. As per your previous instructions, Dr Banner's room has been switched to immediate lockdown."

"Great, great." His mind was a whirlwind of worry. Why is he out? He's safe, Bruce is safe, I made so sure of that. "I'm going up there. Maybe I can calm him down."

"Sir, in my opinion-"

"If I want your opinion, I'll ask for it." He didn't have time to don the suit. Every second that Hulk was fighting his way out spelt worse consequences for Bruce in the long run. "Put the floor on lockdown, hell, the whole tower. But not before I get in there, understood?"

His AI paused.

"Understood, sir."

Tony could see no immediate damage on Bruce's floor. The rebuild of Stark Tower had included plans to reinforce this floor with the strongest metals he could get his hands on, and he'd pushed it right to the front of the to-do list. But with every step he took, he could feel the Hulk's roars vibrate through him. They weren't roars of rage. They sounded more like... pain.

Tony wasn't sure how to comfort a big green rage monster.

Slowly, he opened the door, and stood right on the threshold. He tried to make himself look as unthreatening as possible, softening his stance, his voice.

"Hey there, big guy."

The Hulk turned to look at him and Tony stiffened. For the first time since hearing the crash, he wished he'd put on the suit. When you spent a decent amount of time with Bruce, it was easy to forget about the beast that lurked within. The sheer size of it. Swallowing, he tried to remind himself that this was his team-mate, the guy who'd caught him in mid-air on the way back from a suicide mission. But the magnitude of it all overwhelmed him, even with the weeks he'd spent with Bruce, learning all about him and the other guy and him and Bruce, it still blew his mind and made him want to run for cover. Tony Stark wouldn't ever say he was the type of guy to back down from a fight, not even one that he couldn't possibly win, but this? This was something else. He searched for some trace of Bruce in the creature's eyes and found nothing.

And then Hulk roared. A cacophonous sound of anger and pain, rich in volume and directed straight at Tony. His entire body told him to run but his feet wouldn't move and his mind would not stop racing. What caused this?

Daring to look away from the living embodiment of rage in front of him, he snuck a quick glance around Bruce's room. It was completely destroyed, with broken glass on the floor, books strewn around everywhere, some with the pages still fluttering, but the bed was still intact, like he hadn't gone near it. The sheets were twisted. Tony had a flash of epiphany- it was dark out, (shit, was it? How long had he been in the lab?)Bruce must have been asleep. Tony had had enough nightmares in his life to recognise what the aftermath looked like, even if this was a little more dramatic than he was used to. Now, he looked at Hulk properly. Pull yourself together. You're tip-toeing, Stark. You need to strut. Was it all just talk? The creature was pacing, growling, almost quivering with pent-up aggression. Bruce had told him once that the Hulk came out when Bruce needed protection. Hulk was trying to fight something he couldn't see.

"Hulk," he tried again, holding his hands up in surrender. "Listen to me." Hulk had saved him, had followed Capsicle's commands, this couldn't be too difficult a request. "Bruce was scared, right?"

Hulk emitted a low growl that made the hairs on the back of Tony's neck stand up. You came this far.

"Bruce was scared and you came out to protect him. But you can't, not from this. You can't smash the nightmares away."

Or on second thought, maybe saying the word "smash" wasn't the best idea you've ever had.

The room shook. The room actually fucking shook, and if Tony's feet couldn't move before, it sure as hell wasn't a problem now as they were falling out from underneath him as Hulk roared once more and a green hand swept him aside. Tony slammed into the wall and was vaguely aware of blood trickling down his neck before the pounding in his head got too loud- or was that Hulk's stamping? It made no difference. Tony's eyes fluttered and he slipped away, slumping to the floor.

When he woke, the scene had changed from Bruce's war-torn bedroom to the crisp white hues of the Stark tower medical bay. His head felt like someone had stomped on it, and he was feeling generally sore all over, but... well, he'd had worse. And the big guy could have done worse if he'd wanted, surely. Pepper was there, of course, thank god, and it seemed to be early morning.

"I know you're awake," she said simply, not even looking up from her tablet. Her silver polished fingernails danced over the surface.

"Are you still angry at me? Actually, are you ever not angry at me? What did I do this time?"

She threw him a cold, furious glance, before returning to her work. "Aside from locking yourself in a room with a rampaging Hulk, you mean?Without your suit on?"

Oh. "Hey, he wasn't rampaging. He was surprisingly calm. No, not calm, he was scared."

"You could have died!"

"I get that a lot. Where's Bruce?"

Silently, still fuming, she nodded over to the bed in the corner. Sure enough, Bruce lay there, curled up on his side in raggedy trousers, sleeping much more peacefully than he had been earlier. Presumably, anyway.

"He's angry at you too. Well, not angry, as such. Disappointed. And scared, and regretful, and sad..." she sighed. Tony could sense it, how she hated not having control, not being able to fix something. They had that in common. "You know he'll want to leave, right?"

"He can't. The army would seize him in a heartbeat."

"There isn't actually that much damage, it's just his floor. According to Jarvis he transformed back shortly after you got knocked out. But you know what he's like, you know it better than I do."

He frowned. "I want him to stay. I want to figure out what made him lose control, and make it better. Make him feel safe."

"You want to fix him?"

Tony had never been more sure of anything in his life. "Yeah. I just don't know _how_."


End file.
